Confessions from a Troubled Soul
by Eleena Thea
Summary: a very depressed Harry returns to Hogwarts with a darkened heart and soul. He is having trouble letting go of the past. Can a familiar face bring him out of his misery? Rated pg-13 for heavy angst. No slash. OOTP spoilers


A/N: Alright, this is pretty angsty and short. I am planning on maybe writing some more if anybody likes it so let me know (Hit Hint Review) Thanks. Book Five Spoiler

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Disclaimer: It all belongs to J.K Rowling. Whom I am Mad at so HA

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Dear Sirius, 

There has to be a way out. Out of this nightmare in which I have been forced. Forced by the creature I loathe the most of anything alive. At his hands my parents were slain. At his hands I watched a perfectly innocent boy be slaughtered because of my arrogance. At the hands of his followers I watched the only father I ever had die, because I was to insipid to listen to others who warned me and you had to come and rescue me. At his hands I was given this scar. This omen that burns within me whenever he has the slightest change in emotion. It is like I am one with him. One with that hideous monster whom has murdered so many for his own pleasure and gain of power. The worst of it is, is that he chose me. He could have chosen another. Another baby boy, born at the alike time as me but, no. He came to my home and murdered my parents only because they tried to deliver me from his evil. Fools! They should have stood back and let him seize me. That would have been the taintless escape. I could have liberated this entire bloody situation.

And now look at where I am. I am sixteen years old. Sixteen bloody years old! I have seen death and destruction and felt anguish deeper then anyone could ever feel. I am to blame for the deaths of my parents, Cedric and now you. Yours has perhaps been the most terrible. I mean, I was out to be the hero. Always trying to rescue people. When I saw you in my dream I knew I had to assist. Some assistance I was. I ended up getting you killed in the end. Not to mention almost killing five of my greatest companions and most of the order. 

Of course, now that they have all seen him back at his worst, the masses believe my story. I don't give a damn. I sometimes hope he kills every one of those damned ministry officials. Especially that Corneilius Fudge. What I wouldn't give to see him rolling around on the ground, twisting and shaking, while that cold voice laughs in his distress. That would be wonderful.

Oh, but what am I saying. I can not possibly wish to stoop to the level of the beast that has caused me so much torment. Oh, but what I wouldn't give to bring him down right now. I wish, every day, that he would come knocking on my door. I know it is the prophecy that one of us must kill the other and I **will **kill Voldemort. The only question now is when. I know how I am going to do it. I will sneak up behind him and hit him with that curse he has used to torture so many people, including me. Then in that moment of his suffering I will hit him with the killing curse. Yes, I will kill him with that savage curse he has killed Cedric and my parents with. That ought to teach him.

Although, I can't really go about using forbidden curses, can I? Oh what the hell. The ministry can not persecute me for ridding them of Voldemort. Besides with my luck, half of the prats will be dead before I even get the chance to slaughter him. 

Anyway, I need to get some rest. That damned nightmare kept me up half the night last night and I could do with some sleep. I dreamed that I awoke in a dark place. A place that I was unable to comprehend. I seemed to just float about. It was lonely. Then, out of no where some figures appeared. There were my parents and Cedric and you, standing, or rather floating, before me. You all looked at me with hatred in your eyes. Then you all began shrieking at me. Telling me that I was a senseless boy and that I had to go and get everyone killed and that I deserved to be alone forever. Then you all moved toward me and began to push me backward. I fell backward through the darkness until I fell through a thin dark veil. I opened my eyes and was lying on the ground of the room in the department of mysteries where you had been murdered. There in front of me sat the dais with the arch and that black veil. I jumped to my feet and pulled back the veil but there was nothing. Then I woke up. I have been having that dream since the summer holidays and now that I am back here at Hogwarts it seems more frequent and detailed. Oh well, I suppose that is what I deserve. You're all correct, you know. I am foolish and do deserve to feel this way. It wouldn't be suitable to feel any different. Well, I am off to bed now. 

Harry

Harry rolled the piece of parchment up and tossed it into the fireplace. He then proceeded up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. He suddenly felt the urge to halt. Turning around he glanced hopefully at the fire. For a fleeting instant he thought he had seen the thin face of Sirius but then he flinched and it was gone. Harry's eyes began to water. A tiny tear trickled down his cheek. He brushed it away. It was absurd to cry. Sixteen-year-old boys didn't cry. Especially when the reason they were crying was their own bloody fault. He slapped himself and whispered under his breath, "Snap out of it, you prat." He then rotated and ascended the rest of the stairs. The dormitory was unlit and he had a bit of trouble feeling his way to his bed. He didn't bother with changing into his pajamas; instead he fell rigorously onto the bed. He instantaneously closed his eyes and drifted away. There he was again in the black of that unexplainable nothing. He was being yelled at again but this time he had to speak. He began apologizing, begging for their forgiveness but before he had the chance to receive an answer from the four whom had surrounded him he was shaken awake.

"Harry, you alright, mate?" Ron was now standing over him. As were Dean, Seamus and Longbottem. Harry looked around at their apprehensive faces and whispered, "fine." This was his routine falsehood. Neville reached down and attempted to help him off the ground but Harry jerked away and pulled himself up. He couldn't let Longbottem touch him. No, Longbottem didn't deserve to be near him. Look what Harry had done for him. It could have been Neville shaking from the terrible nightmares, but it was Harry. Harry had been chosen. He had saved Neville. He now stood, the others still staring at him.

"What are you all looking at then, go on." He turned around and began to change his clothes in irritated silence. The others eventually went back to their mourning rituals, all four keeping a close eye on Harry. Harry began to change more briskly, feeling a need to escape. He felt trapped, like he was suffocating. He had tried to break through his wall keeping him from his friends. He now could feel the wall closing in on him. Trapping him. Pushing the air from his lungs. He ran from the dormitory as fast as his feet would take him. He ran until he reached the corridor. He then rushed to breakfast. He ate quickly, ignoring Hermione's invitation to eat with her and then left. He retreated to the library until his first lesson. Harry had grown quite fond of the library. It offered him a dark, dreary place to hide. A place that matched the way he felt inside. A place to relax and breathe and to lament. That was the only thing he wanted to do. Lament and grieve. Breathing was no longer even that significant. He did not care if were alive. He sometimes wished he were dead. He then, could rejoin Sirius and his parents. He did not really worry about Voldemort any longer. Not like he said he did. Voldemort was everyone else's problem. Why did he have to be their savior? Be the one to deliver everybody. He was tired of failing to rescue people. He was tired of people requesting his aide. He was tired of people in general. He wished everyone would just disappear and leave him in his misery. Instead, they were all intent on trying to ease his mind. To save him from himself or some lunatic nonsense like that. He wouldn't allow them to help him. He deserved every thing he was feeling. All the anguish and pain was what he deserved. He deserved to die a slow, pain filled death, but he doubted anyone would grant him that pleasure. He closed his eyes. Harry liked the feeling of being in between asleep and awake. It offered him a place to hide from both the life he was living and the world of his dreams. If only he could stay like this forever. 

  



End file.
